


Through the Jungle, Through the Dark

by adventurepants



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventurepants/pseuds/adventurepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks of Kathryn's open, earnest face, thinks of her kind smile, thinks of how she'll be killed in a world without the magic to bring her back, and suddenly she's too sick to hold down her dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Jungle, Through the Dark

Regina throws up, alone in her bathroom, the night she makes the deal with Gold. The deal that will end Kathryn's life. She comes home and makes dinner for Henry, sees that his does his homework, sends him to bed, and then some time later finds herself hunched over her toilet, retching. 

She hadn't really known Abigail, hadn't had any real reason to trap her in Storybrooke with no memories of the man she'd loved, but the curse meant all or nothing, and Regina had been so far gone she hadn't had the luxury of caring what happened to strangers. Months ago, she hadn't meant to become friends with Kathryn—hadn't meant it to be real, anyway, but oh, it had been so long since she'd had a friend. And for some misguided reason, Kathryn liked her. Confided in her, trusted her. And Regina, in return, had planned the woman's death.

It's hard to break a habit. 

She didn't wish to hurt Kathryn, she didn't wish her to be gone, but what she wished for was hardly a presence in the face of what she feared. The clock ticking, her control weakening. And so it had to happen. There was no other choice, no other way to stop Snow White from stealing back the happiness that Regina had so carefully eradicated.

Even so. She thinks of Kathryn's open, earnest face, thinks of her kind smile, thinks of how she'll be killed in a world without the magic to bring her back, and suddenly she's too sick to hold down her dinner.

This isn't the way it was supposed to be. She didn't mean for it to be like this.

She hears movement behind her, and rises from her knees with great difficulty to see Henry standing in her bedroom in his pajamas, just outside the bathroom door. She tries not to remember, because remembering Henry as her baby only makes being with this Henry more painful, but the sight of him in her room at night brings the images unbidden. He would run to her after bad dreams, red-faced and hair sticking out at comical angles. It didn't matter how tired she was, she would sit up in bed and let him latch his tiny arms around her middle, would stroke his hair and rub his back until he felt safe enough to let go.

“It's all right, Henry,” she would say. “I will never, ever let anything hurt you. I promise.”

He had believed in her, then. Now he stands in front of her silently, curiously, and the greatest comfort she can take from his presence is that his expression is only barely hostile.

“Henry,” she says. “You should be in bed.”

“Are you sick?” he asks.

He's never seen her sick. There is sickness in Storybrooke, a hospital steadily in business for the past 28 years, but through either some residual magic in her body or sheer force of will, she hasn't come down with even the mildest case of the sniffles since her first day as Mayor. She's nursed Henry through every cold and flu and stomach bug, but she can't even remember what it feels like to have a fever herself.

“I'm fine,” she tells him, and she's so good at lying that she doesn't have to try anymore. The lies have become another kind of truth.

“You threw up,” he says. He doesn't seem concerned, exactly, and she thinks that's far too much to hope for right now, anyway. But he looks thrown. As if something he was sure of has just been proven false. His mother is not, it turns out, made of stone.

“It's nothing,” she says. “I just need to get some rest. You should go back to bed.”

She lies awake that night, staring at the ceiling, knowing she is just as evil as her son believes.

*

But then Kathryn doesn't die. Gold breaks their deal and Kathryn doesn't die and the fear that's been steadily consuming her reaches the empty hole in her chest, fills it up and widens it until it's all she can do to keep breathing. 

She really could lose everything.

Kathryn is alive and it terrifies Regina, but somehow, in quickly passing moments, she feels relief. She hasn't killed her friend after all.

She visits her in the hospital because there's no other option. She doesn't deserve the comfort of seeing Kathryn, she thinks, but she is the mayor and Kathryn is her friend, and it's what people expect. It's what Kathryn expects, and it's easier to go than to explain her absence. 

Regina's heels click against the floor and it wakes Kathryn from a light sleep. Regina's not sure what she expected, but Kathryn just looks tired, mostly. Regina feels sick again, knowing that if she'd had her way, a heart in a box would be as much as they'd ever find.

“Regina,” Kathryn says with a genuine smile, so happy to see her. “I was wondering when you'd show up.”

“I-” Regina starts, and finds that her apology sticks in her throat. What could she possibly say that will excuse what she's done?

“Hey, it's okay,” Kathryn says, and her eyes are soft. “I know you're busy.”

“I thought you died. I thought you'd been killed,” Regina says, rushing to Kathryn's bedside with as much dignity as she can manage.

“I know.” Kathryn closes her eyes for a moment, but she is strong, she is steady.

“I'm so glad you're all right, dear,” Regina tells her, because it's what people say, it's what she should say. And because it's the truth.

“Me too,” Kathryn says. She reaches her hand out and Regina takes it, moving one finger so that she can feel Kathryn's pulse in her wrist. 

With every heartbeat, she is sorry.

*

David leaves and Regina breaks a mirror, and it's silly, it's letting her fear and her frustration get the best of her, but she does it anyway.

Her phone rings afterwards, and it's a bit of a close call, she supposes, when she sees that it's Kathryn. She's out of the hospital, and Regina mostly succeeds in sounding happy, or at least sounding normal. But something must be off in her voice when Kathryn asks about Henry and Regina admits that she's alone. 

She hasn't cleaned up the broken glass by the time Kathryn shows up. She should have, and she meant to, and Kathryn shouldn't be there now, but she only steps carefully over the mess and asks Regina, with more sincere concern than Regina knows how to take, what happened.

And so Regina allows herself, just this once, to say the words out loud. “She's going to take Henry. Emma Swan is going to take my son from me.”

Kathryn takes a step towards her then and pulls her into a hug. “Oh, Regina,” she says softly. “No one's going to take Henry away. You're his mother. Nothing will change that.”

Regina is stiff in her arms, and it's a long moment before she can let herself relax. She doesn't dare count how many years it's been since someone has held her like this, someone whose only intent is to comfort her, to let her know she's not alone.

Kathryn sweeps up the glass and cleans the wine splatter off the wall, even as Regina tells her it's not necessary, that she'll do it herself. “There,” Kathryn says with finality when it's done, as if everything is going to be fine now. She's being kind, not naïve, Regina realizes.

“Thank you. For coming over,” she says. “I didn't realize... I'm not accustomed to having someone like you in my life.”

“Someone who cares about you?” Kathryn asks. She sounds sad.

“It's a bit of an adjustment,” Regina admits.

“Well, get used to it,” Kathryn tells her. “I'm not going anywhere.”


End file.
